The Toy & Action Figure Museum (whose logo tee the Director’s rocking as we speak) isn’t the only detour Wampus took me on during my trip back home for the Okie Noodling Tournament. On the eve thereof, he & Suzy—his expectant wife, co-gourmet cheesemonger & rare comic equal—drove me all the way to the OK-TX border to do mouth-based research at a legendary catfish palace called McGeHee.
Housed way, way off any main road in an Americana-bedecked cabin overlooking the Red River, the place evokes a clubhouse for ballcapped, grizzled good old boys to sit around in guzzling beer, cheating at cards & spinning fish tales. But when we met a couple of Wampus & Suzy’s friends there around 8 on a Friday night, it was virtually empty—8 being nearly closing time in the middle of nowhere.
I’m not sure there’s anything on the menu besides catfish fried or grilled (but who doesn’t get fried? no one, that’s who), served AYCE family-style with all manner of sides; certainly the ordering process amounted to a smiling confirmation that that’s what we’d be having.
In no time, the waitress returned with a trayful of this & that & this—not only a dish of raw onion slices, peperoncini & lemon wedges but also
sweet pickled green tomatoes, hypercreamy coleslaw
& crunchy-tender free-form hush puppies,
which we had just the right amount of time to plow through before the presentation of the beaucoup pièces de résistance.
The cornmeal-fried catfish was expertly done—greaseless, moist & flaky—but I gotta say it was the snappy, salt-dusted, mahogany-hued, skin-on fries that enthralled me most, not least for being the 2nd absolutely spectacular batch of spud sticks I’d had in as many days.
Had we been anywhere Bacchus actually knew—McGeHee is dry—no telling how many I’d have polished off in inebriated bliss, hid in my pockets & otherwise hoarded. So many I’d still be eating ’em now, that I can t ell you.